


Save Me

by PotionsMistressM



Category: Robin Hood (BBC)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-08
Updated: 2008-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionsMistressM/pseuds/PotionsMistressM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The castle is not always a safe place for a lady (includes attempted sexual assault- if this triggers you, please do not read).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Me

Save Me  
*You look like the perfect fit  
For a girl in need of a tourniquet  
So can you save me?*  
The scream split the stagnant air inside the castle into thousands of tiny, piercing shards, and though it was a sound Sir Guy of Gisborne was used to hearing, there was something about this particular scream that did not sit well with him, something . . . _wrong_.  
First, he had just left the dungeons and knew for a fact that there were no women being held there at the moment, and though he had, in his time, heard quite a few masculine specimens reduced to high-pitched squeals, there was something genuinely feminine about this particular shriek. Stopping in his tracks, he cocked his head slightly in the direction of the scream. The scream had died down as quickly as it had come tearing into life, and the castle once again seemed to be completely still. Guy rubbed his tired eyes with his gloved hands. He had been intent on returning to Locksley tonight, on actually getting a night's rest for once instead of the prowling restlessness that kept him at the castle most nights, and perhaps that rest was more warranted than he had even realized. Internally, he chastised himself. He was aware now of his proximity to the servants' quarters. The scream had not been a scream at all, he told himself with a disgusted shake of his head. It had, in all likelihood, been a sound he was all together too unused to hearing- a woman's cry of delight.  
 _How long has it been, Gisborne?_ a sinister voice whispered through his exhausted mind. _How long has it been since you made a woman moan? Long enough to take the simple sound of servants rutting in their squalid little quarters as cause for alarm . . ._  
Pushing tiredly against his now-blurred eyes, Guy began to move again, heavy foot in front of heavy foot. No more work tonight. Home tonight. Bed tonight. _Sleep_ tonight. His boots thudded dully against the cold stone floor, not the sharp, driven stomp his gate normally produced, and he wondered vaguely what he looked like, half dead and stumbling toward the door. He was in no fit state, and though he had always been dedicated to his work, these late nights of endless patrolling had certainly increased in frequency since his engagement, since his head had begun to swim in nothing but thoughts of Marian and her continued rejection of his advances. Since he'd become betrothed he'd found that the only thing that would put thoughts of her at bay was his work, and even then he was continuously being insulted and called names by Vaysey as he was, once again, caught up in a reverie of Marian.  
The shrill scream pierced the still night air once again, and, though tired, Guy's senses heightened and his muscles bunched- a fighter's pose, poised and ready for a fight. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a blur of movement, and he turned instantly, though if there had been anything there, it had disappeared quickly. Unable to dismiss his instincts this time, Guy's right hand twitched anxiously as it hovered above his sword, and he moved forward, rewarded this time by a clear sound of distress, though this time it took the form of a man's low, guttural curse. The swearing was followed promptly by a sharp smacking noise, though it was what followed that set all the blood in his body boiling- a sharp, shrieking, clearly terrified noise, just like the ones he'd heard before, though this one was formed into a word. A long, drawn-out, desperate version of a one-syllable plea.  
"Guuuuuuuuuuy!"  
*******  
Marian choked off the end of his name, coughing as her throat closed, unbidden. She could taste the blood that trickled from her split lip, and her vision blurred as her eyes watered with effort and panic. The guard, who was clearly intoxicated, had first grabbed her as she had made her way up from the dungeons where she had been secreting food to the poor, malnourished inmates. It had become her custom to feed the prisoners at her every opportunity- just another way the Nightwatchman might get a bit of help to those in need. Tonight had been no exception, and perhaps she had not been paying as close attention as she should have been. Robin... her head had been full of thoughts of Robin. Somehow he had heard of her secret habit and had managed to sneak her a message through one of the captured men. She remembered being annoyed. He only ever wanted to talk to her when he wanted something, and she couldn't possibly conceive of what he could want now.  
So it had been thoughts of Robin that had caused her to be less cautious than she normally would have been. Not that she was ever very concerned for her safety while visiting the castle, at least not while not in the presence of the Sheriff. But still, she should have seen him, should have noticed. Instead, she had been stewing over Robin and had missed the way his dark leather uniform melted away into the shadows. He had waited for her to pass him and then grabbed her from behind. At first, Marian had passed it off as a drunkard's clumsy attempt at any affection he could wrangle, but the more she struggled, the more he fought for her. He had pulled her flush against him so that she could smell the ale on his breath, feel the strain against his trousers. She had broken free of him several times, but not before he had managed to grab at her breasts, ripping her dress as he stumbled, and not before he had held her close enough to slobber against her neck. Whether the soggy attention had been intended as a kiss or a lick, Marian would never know, but after that, she had swung her elbow back as forcefully as she could against his face. She'd been rewarded for her efforts with a sick, wet squishing and cracking noise, followed by his foul cursing. She'd run as far as the servants' quarters before he'd caught up to her again, violently yanking her hair, and she had screamed in pain and surprise. Like a clamp, his hand came down over her mouth, suffocating and silencing her. He pulled her tight against him once again, and now she could feel his hot breath against her, huffing through flared nostrils like an angry horse. This time he wasted no time with her breasts and instead gracelessly thrust a hand between her thighs- too low to touch her, though Marian felt the intrusion just as strongly as if he had. Her attacker, however, had not considered the lack of leverage he would enjoy with one arm employed in the sole purpose of keeping her mouth shut. She turned quite deftly and managed to push herself away from him, screaming once again as she ran further into the heart of the castle.  
He followed her still, with an amazing speed for someone of his oafish size and obvious intoxication. Catching her once again, this time face to face, he smirked at her before once again covering her mouth once again. The guard's singular purpose was never in question, and he tried desperately to back her against the nearest wall, all the while ripping at the already torn bit of her dress. Had she been in any state to think clearly, Marian would have blushed; the dress was slashed from neck to navel, though thankfully it was tight and sculpted enough to not show very much.  
As the guard shoved her roughly against the wall, her head bounced jarringly off the bumpy stone, causing her vision to go white and her teeth to clench and rip into one of his hot, meaty fingers. He released her immediately, and she took a second to consider the mark of her handiwork- the blood that dripped from the offending finger.  
"You stupid little cunt!" the guard shouted, backhanding her with his left hand as he held the wounded right one in a kind of dazed wonder. Shocked back to the point of blurred vision, Marian swayed slightly before the guard grabbed her around the waist with one arm and began to drag her with him back toward the servants' quarters. The gesture was clear- the chase was over and he had won. Marian was too exhausted and he was too strong. He was going to have her. Her mind scrambled wildly even as her bod y nearly gave out, and as a final, impossible plea, she screamed again.  
"Guuuuuuuuy!"  
*******  
Gisborne rounded the corner at a run, his sword drawn, and at the sight of him, the drunken guard froze momentarily. Whatever a person's station in the castle, it was never good to see an angry Guy of Gisborne approaching. In a panic, as Marian's assailant seemed to suddenly realize exactly who he was manhandling. He let go of her, not only releasing her, but also pushing her toward her betrothed. Marian stumbled and landed quite jarringly on her knees. In an instant, Guy was beside her, but with a tear-filled glance, she shook her head toward the guard. She had never really believed in vengeance or getting back at someone who had wronged her.  
Not until tonight.  
"Get him," she whispered, her voice hoarse with pain and exhaustion and raw from screaming. Guy was reluctant to leave her side, but when she raised a battered hand to his shoulder and cast another beseeching look to his eyes, he relented.  
"Stay here for me. I will come back for you."  
*******  
When Guy returned to Marian's side, she was more alert, though he could not be sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Certainly, he was glad that she had not been seriously injured, but her strange, quiet mourning was off-putting at best. Slowly, he had gathered her up and helped her to walk. In a desperate, but losing battle to ensure her modesty, Marian clutched forlornly at the tattered remnants of her dress, and without a second thought, Guy had removed his long leather coat and wrapped it around her, helping her to slide her tiny arms through the over-sized sleeves and fastening the closures along the front, careful to not touch anything he shouldn't. He took the opportunity to appraise the damage and did not like what he saw. Her lip was still bleeding and the slide of her face was red and puffy where the man had slapped her; she looked terrible, but Guy noticed with a sort of admiring awe that she still managed to hold her head high as she walked. She still managed to carry herself with dignity and pride.  
And she still managed to be the most beautiful woman Guy had ever laid eyes upon.  
After a short distance, Guy ushered her into a small chamber in which the embers of a small fire were just dying down. Guy offered her an armchair, and she sank into it gratefully. Looking around, she realized that the decor was spartan, but not uncomfortable. The armchair in which she sat was covered in expensive leather, and Marian noted that it was the only extravagant piece in the whole of the room. Beside the chair, the room contained a small desk and chair and a set of nearly-empty shelves. In the corner, she spotted a pile of what she could barely recognize as old, broken weaponry and bits of armor. She glanced toward Guy, who had gone to reignite the fire, and narrowed her eyes.  
"Is this," she began, "your... office?" The hoarseness of her voice surprised her even after the events of the evening, and she coughed a little to try and clear it. The fire stoked, Guy turned back to her- a nearly comical sight sitting there in his giant coat. He smiled sadly as he moved to her side, kneeling in front of her chair.  
"It is a sort of... well, I suppose you could call it an office. It is the most the sheriff will allow me." Even with her eyes swelling and tearing up, she managed to roll them, a move Guy normally would have found utterly disrespectful. But tonight he smiled at her. She was so strong. Even when she had every right to be a sobbing mess, she sat in front of him, calmly and clearly expressing her disdain for his boss. He supposed her strength was one the reasons he had grown to love her so much, and one of the main reasons loving her was so damn frustrating.  
"Are you alright, Marian?" he asked, his voice low with concern. She smiled sadly and nodded. Guy noticed that her eyes were regaining their normal clarity, and he tentatively reached for her hand. He enclosed her hand gently and breathed an inward sigh of relief when she did not pull away. Instead, she looked into his eyes and held his stare. Her brilliant blue eyes shone with tears, though Guy was sure she would never let them fall in his presence. Finally breaking the stare and looking down, she seemed to notice for the first time how her hand rested inside his. When she began to speak, it was almost too quietly for Guy to hear.  
"Thank you. For rescuing me." She raised her eyes again, and Guy was astonished to see the slow tears sliding down her cheeks. In his hand, hers stirred and laced her fingers into his. She began to rub her thumb distractedly against his, and it was Guy's turn now to look down in astonishment.  
"You are most welcome. Marian." He had not intended to speak so strangely, but the combination of the situation, the proximity to her, and that beautiful friction her hand created against his had turned that last word, her name, into a slight sound, a whispered exhalation.  
A prayer.  
The tone of his voice had not escaped Marian's attention, and she turned her eyes back to his. There was nothing he could do to gloss over the bare emotion those simple three syllables had contained, and he found himself floundering and helpless in her all too wise stare. Slowly, she leaned forward in the seat, and gently laid a hand against his face. She seemed to be studying him in that moment, her brow knitted slightly as if she was trying to figure out a terribly confusing problem. Guy could only close his eyes against her intrusive inspection, and unbidden, her name sprang to his lips again- a plea he was sure would not be answered.  
But once again, like nearly always, she proved him wrong. He opened his eyes just as her lips came to rest against his, closed but soft. Gently, she nuzzled against him, and he eagerly returned the pressure with equal gentleness- a kiss of relief and gratitude. When she pulled away from him, she took a second to rest her forehead against his, her hot breath still dancing across his lips from this position.  
"Thank you, Guy," she murmured, sliding her hand from his face and down his neck as she sat back in his chair once again.


End file.
